


Blame it on the Vodka

by FireSoul



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 13:49:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6472483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireSoul/pseuds/FireSoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sara gets drunk one night so Len has to take care of her, and in the process some things are said that probably wouldn't be said when sober.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blame it on the Vodka

Normally they have a system.

Whenever the Waverider lands and the two rogues alone with Sara find that they all have some free time they find a bar, they have a few drinks, they start a fight, they get thrown out. That’s usually how the three of them spend any shore leave but Len broke the tradition two days after they captured Mick and Sara had to haul his drunken ass out of the bar in the future. So now he’s standing here in 1983, wondering just how bad he was and if he really deserves what she’s about to put him through.

Mick’s taken care of him when he’s been hammered before and, according to the arsonist, he’s kind of like a zombie. He has to be led around, he’ll say a few things that he didn’t necessarily mean to, but he’s pretty quiet and not all that hard to babysit. 

Sara, on the other hand, is looking to be another story.

He’s seen her drunk before, and if he’s honest with himself he finds it amusing how much drunk Sara resembles a bubbly teenager. But tonight she’s far past the point of her usual drunkenness and is completely wasted. He didn’t even want to know how many drinks she’d had, especially since she usually knows how to hold her liquor. All he wanted to know was how long it was going to take to get her back to the ship after this. For the most part he sat back and let her have her fun, slowly nursing his third beer by barely touching it once he realized that he’d lost track of how many shots she’d taken and that almost definitely meant he was going to be in charge of her tonight. He’d seen her in a dark corner earlier with a tall brunette in a red dress and he’d watched them go sneaking off into the ladies room with nothing more than a thought of how little he really wanted to be here. He was ready to go, there wasn’t much for him in the bar tonight. But he waited until she came stumbling out, her steps more unsteady than before, and then given her at least another forty minutes before he went over and tapped her on the shoulder.

“Hey Snart!” She exclaimed upon seeing him, her voice much higher than it normally was.

“Time to go Lance,” he informed her; she pouted like a five year old upon hearing those words.

“Aw come on, can’t we stay a little longer?” She pleaded but he shook his head.

“Afraid not, now come on before Rip and the others get back from their mission and notice we’re still out.” He said and she giggled.

“They’re gonna be ssooo jealous,” she gloated like a little girl who had a better toy than her best friend.

Len just smirked before offering her his hand, seeing now that unless he literally pulled her away from the crowd this conversation could go on all night. She accepted his hand happily and let him lead her stumbling body through the crowd. It was only when they were clear of the dance floor and halfway to the door of the club that he glanced behind him at her feet and realized there was a reason aside from her drunkenness that she was stumbling so much.

“Why are your shoes on the wrong feet?” He deadpanned, freezing where they stood to allow her to glance down at her feet.

“Whoops,” she giggled so it was with a very frustrated sigh that Snart lead her over to a vacant barstool and sat her on it; quite literally too since she didn’t seem very capable of climbing onto the stool herself so he had to grab her waist, pick her up, and sit her down. “Thanks,” she giggled, swinging her legs happily as he got down and grabbed hold of one ankle. Not that she even seemed to notice considering she just continued swinging the other leg, Len was careful not to get kicked in the face.

He removed her shoes and put them back on the proper feet before standing and helping her off the stool before continuing to lead her out of the building, she was still tripping over her own feet behind him but it was considerably less now.

But less is still annoying and with each step he took he could feel hers fumbling more and more behind him until he got fed up not even halfway back to the Waverider. At this rate they were going to spend all night walking and he didn’t have the patience for that so he stopped and instead of leading her the rest of the way he bent down and picked her up over his shoulder. Of all the things he would’ve expected Sara to do in response to this, laughing out loud with an obvious joy was not on the list; just going to show how wasted she really is. He had no idea how in the hell she made it two streets from the bar in her heels, despite them now being on the right feet, but he chalked it up to assassin training. He smirked as that thought crossed his mind and the reality of the situation hit him; she was trained to be a stone cold killer but instead she’s currently slung over the shoulder of a crook, laughing as if she realizes how funny it is.  
.  
.  
.

When they returned to the Waverider Len found himself very thankful that the others weren’t back yet; he could only imagine how they would react to him walking aboard with Sara over his shoulder and giggling like a schoolgirl.

“What’s so funny back there?” He finally asked her as they entered the ship.

“I like being upside-down,” she replied with a slurred voice, he just rolled his eyes and kept walking. 

At the main entrance to the ship there are two doorways, one that leads to the upper level and one that leads to the lower. The upper level is where the barracks are, and that’s where Len had every intention on going. But before he could even set foot on the first step Sara caught sight of the other doorway.

“I want to see Mick,” she blurted out, knowing that the brig is on the lower level. Admittedly Len stopped where he stood, but only because he was caught off guard by the request and not because he was actually considering it.

“No,” he told her in his usual monotone voice.

“Pleeaase,” she whined, twisting her neck so that she could look at him. “He missed all the fun tonight, we can at least go see him.” She begged and Len gave a sigh. Ordinarily he wouldn’t give into her drunken request but the team had been trying to rehabilitate his former partner with no success, maybe the sight of Sara completely hammered would be unusual enough for the stone faced man to react to it.

“Fine,” he huffed in agreement; Sara squealed with delight and briefly kicked her feet in excitement.  
.  
.  
.

Let the record show that Len was right, this did garner a reaction from Mick. The man had sat in his cell completely emotionless throughout each attempt his former teammates made to reach him, in fact his feelings were so well masked that it scared Len. Mick had always been a man of feelings. When he was happy he grinned like a child who had stolen from the cookie jar. When he was sad he couldn’t control the tears. When he was angry, well you had better not get in his way. But ever since the team brought him in, aside from one initial outburst, he’d sat through all their speeches about how much they wanted him back like he was totally disconnected from the world. But when his ex-partner entered the room with the resident assassin slung over his shoulder he arched a questioning eyebrow. 

For a minute or two they just stared at each other, until finally Len had enough of the silence.

“Someone wanted to see you,” he said in his usual, cold, voice. He then put Sara down and made sure she was steady before taking his hands off her hips and letting her drunkenly stumble over to the clear wall of Mick’s cell, the stupid grin on her face being enough to confuse Mick and make Len chuckle.

“Hi Mick,” she slurred before she walked right into the clear wall and nearly fell over backwards from the impact, she would’ve had Len not rushed to get behind her and catch her. “Sorry,” she mumbled as Len steadied her from behind, this time not backing away all that far once she was standing on her own.

Mick barely flinched throughout the whole ordeal and only when the blonde looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something, did he let his eyes flick up to meet Len’s.

“This is your plan?” He asked,

“Her plan,” Snart confirmed, “I guess she felt bad you missed the fun tonight.”

“When I get out of here, you’ll see what my idea of fun is.” He threatened and Len so badly wanted to make a snide comment, to remind Mick that HE was always the one organizing their prison escapes and that without him he can’t get out of anything.

But he bit his tongue, and not just because he’s sure that this new Mick could figure out an escape. Besides, that was when Sara started swaying on her feet more than she already was, her buzz from the alcohol starting to wear off and taking her adrenaline with it.

“Can’t wait, but for right now I should get her to bed.” He said and Mick scoffed,

“I should’ve seen it coming, back in 2046. I should’ve known you’d pick her over me.” He said before Snart could lead Sara away, causing the cold man to glare at him.

“First of all I didn’t pick Sara over you, I picked the chance to take down Savage over the chance to go back to robbing banks in 2016!” He was almost shouting as he finished, but Mick remained impassive.

“Come on Snart,” he spat his name like it was a curse, “Do you really expect me to believe it was Rip you wanted to stop those guys from killing?” He asked but Len just held his steady gaze. “No; so when I get out of here I’m going to make you choose, Sara or Lisa.” He threatened and if it’s possible Snart’s gaze actually hardened.

But he said nothing, because Mick is never going to get that chance, he’ll make damn sure of it.  
.  
.  
.

“Is Mick mad at me?” Sara questioned as she walked into her room as if she were sleep walking, Len trailing close behind her and trying to figure out how she hadn’t twisted an ankle yet.

“Mick’s mad at all of us,” he replied bluntly, Sara turned around and looked up at him with unfocused eyes.

“I know, but is he extra mad at me?” She asked and Len couldn’t help but chuckle.

“No he’s not,” he told her and just like earlier a smile and a giggle lit up her face. “What’s so funny this time?” He asked out of pure curiosity, thinking that maybe she was realizing how ridiculous she sounds.

“You’re cute when you smile,” She said; ok, he hadn’t been expecting that.

“Time for bed,” he told her and her amusement only seemed to grow.

“But you are!” She laughed, stumbling backwards and onto her bed.

“So are you, now go to bed.” He continued, acting like he hadn’t just called her cute.

“I’m already in bed!” She exclaimed, “Besides I want to stay up.” She said, playing with the hem of her shirt and sounding more like a toddler with each passing minute.

“Now why would you want to do that?” He asked her and of course she giggled before she answered.

“Because you only think I’m cute when I’m drunk,” she told him, throwing her head back probably a little more carelessly than she meant to.

“That’s not true,” he said as he went and took a seat on the edge of her bed. “I’ll only tell you when you’re drunk because you’ll kick my ass if I say anything when you’re sober.” He explained to her and she just stuck out her lip in a pout, he had to smile at that of course.

“No I won’t,” she promised, “I’ll pretend to, I’ll tell you I’m gonna, I’ll put on a show. But I’ll never really, really kick your ass.” She slurred out before smiling a sweet smile that looked to be oddly out of place with where he knew she was going. “You see I’m afraid of love Leonard, I know I’ve had some fun since this whole…” she trailed off, clumsily gesturing to around her as if she were gesturing to the ship. “Mission started. But it’s just been fun. I don’t really love any of them,” she said, drawling out the word love and leaning forward to pick at a very interesting piece of fuzz on her blanket.

“You’re not in love Sara, you’re drunk.” He told her bluntly and she smirked,

“I know I’m not in love,” she said before meeting his eyes, “But I’m falling,” she continued and the honesty in her voice made Len’s stomach drop, almost as much as jumping through time does.

“Come on, time for bed.” He said when he gathered his wits, giving her a gentle pat on the knee as he stood up. She pouted for a minute, actually scratch pouted, she looked like she almost wanted to cry. “Sara,” he said her name gently, reaching down and placing his hands on her shoulders, prompting her to look up and meet his gaze. “We’ll continue this conversation tomorrow, I promise. But right now it’s late and you need to get some sleep.” He told her and she nodded, accepting of the answer.

“Ok,” she agreed. Len then turned around and began rummaging through her drawers for her pajamas, already knowing that she isn’t going to be able to change by herself.

He selected a gray pair of basketball shorts and a white t-shirt, things that will be easy to get her into. When he turned around it took almost everything in him to keep himself from laughing at the sight he was met with: Sara laying on her back as she tried to wrestle herself out of her shirt with very little success.

“Need a little help?” The sarcasm is beyond evident in his voice, even to her drunken mind. To her credit she does try for another minute before finally huffing out a sigh of defeat and collapsing her arms.

“Yes,” he smirks when she admits it before he places the pajamas next to her and goes for her belt.

“Don’t get any ideas,” he warns her as he undoes the belt, he catches her smile but says nothing. When he discards the belt and starts to pull down her jeans, however, he only has them halfway down her thighs before he gives her a look of disappointment and sees that she’s giggling with a knowing smile.

“Why aren’t you wearing any underwear?” He asks in a deadpan voice but isn’t sure if he really wants to know the answer.

“I was but I think I left it at the bar,” she slurs out with a laugh before she starts cackling in amusement, Len just rolls his eyes.

After retrieving some new underwear for her he managed to get those and the shorts on her as well as the t-shirt. She tried unhooking her bra before he put the shirt on but he insisted that she let him handle it. Once she had the t-shirt on he unhooked her bra for her through the material and once she felt it fall from her body she pulled it off through her sleeve without having to be told, though she did almost get her hands tangled up in it afterwards. Once she was all set he tucked her into bed, pulling the blanket over her like he does every time she has a little too much to drink and he has to put her to bed.

“We’re still gonna talk?” She asked him, looking up at him with big eyes.

“Of course,” He assured her before adjusting her blankets one last time, “Goodnight,” he said and with that he grabbed one of her hands in his and gently pressed a kiss to it before leaving her room.

“Night,” she muttered once he was gone.  
.  
.  
.

It was still fairly early in the morning, about eight or so, when Len got up and as he left his room he heard the sounds of someone getting sick coming from the bathroom. Knowing exactly who it was and why they were in there he couldn’t help but sigh, he’d been hoping that he could avoid this.

“Just walk away,” he muttered to himself, “Just go into the kitchen and get your coffee, don’t turn around. Don’t, ugh.” He groaned as he went against his own words and made his way for the bathroom. “Sara?” He called, knocking on the door.

“Come-” her words were cut off by what sounded to be the contents of her stomach.

With a heavy sigh Len turned the doorknob and entered the bathroom to find Sara kneeling before the toilet, looking completely exhausted and miserable.

“Ohh, what did I do last night?” She groaned and Len couldn’t help but smirk,

“Some brown haired girl,” he replied with a chuckle and she forced herself to give him a small smile before another wave of nausea hit her and she stuck her head back in the toilet bowl.

Len watched for a minute as she emptied the contents of her stomach with her left hand gripping the side of the toilet and her right haphazardly holding back her hair until he took pity on her and went to help. He moved some of the hair that she had missed from her face and held it back gently until she was done and when he was sure she was he helped her to her feet.

“Come on,” he said, pulling her along with him as he led her to the kitchen. She let him lead her, following him like a sleepwalker, which he determined is definitely preferable to dragging her along when she walks as if she has two left feet.

Once they made it to the kitchen he sat her down on one of the barstools, this time not literally as she was able to do it herself, and he gave her a bottle of water along with two aspirin pills.

“Thanks,” she mumbled before taking the pills as he set to work on making the two of them some breakfast. She groaned upon hearing the sizzling sound of bacon hitting the hot pan.

“I know but the greasy food will have you feeling better,” Len reminded her

“If I don’t throw it up,” she argued but didn’t press the issue any further, “So seriously, what did I do last night?” She asked again.

“I already told you,” Len replied, not looking up fro the pan.

“Len I haven’t been this hung over since college, that can’t be all I did.” She said and so he turned around to face her, a thoughtful look on his face as he debated whether or not to tell her about what she had said when he was trying to get her to sleep.

“Well you paid Mick a visit, that was fun.” He said sarcastically and she responded by burying her head within her arms and groaning. “Actually it was the most reaction we’ve been able to get out of him so far, I don’t think he knew how to react to the sight of you completely wasted.” He continued to muse and so now Sara lifted up her head with a small smile, imagining what Mick’s face must have looked like.

“So you don’t remember anything?” He asked her, crossing his arms with skepticism as a thoughtful look crossed her face.

“The last thing I remember clearly is taking my sixth or seventh shot, after that it’s mostly a blur.” She began, trying to piece together the bits from the previous night that she does remember. “I remember the girl, sort of, and…” she trailed off, her brow furrowed as a memory tried to sort itself out in her head. “What were we talking about last night?” She asked and she took note when Snart shifted awkwardly in his place. “I remember feeling nervous, which I almost never do when I’m drunk, then I remember you telling me we would talk in the morning?” She asked it more than stated, and Len briefly contemplated lying to her and telling her that the reason she was nervous was something along the lines of being drunkenly afraid of her own shadow, and that he told her they would talk about it later just to shut her up. But he wouldn’t do that; he could tell last night that her words, liquor induced as they were, were coming from an honest place.

“You started talking about falling in love,” he admitted and now it was her turn to shift awkwardly. As she took in the information he turned around and took the bacon out of the pan, setting it down on a paper towel and turning off the burner before turning to face her again.

“Falling in love… like it’d be nice if I could?” She asked as he leaned over the counter, looking her in the eyes.

“You said that you were,” he practically heard the air catch in her throat when he said that, “But then again you were pretty hammered,” he continued, he knew she caught the offer behind his words.

It was coming back to her now, little bits of it anyway. She knows that he could tell by her voice, by how she momentarily sobered up during that conversation, that it wasn’t just the vodka talking. Whatever she told him had been real, and he knows it. But he was giving her a chance here, to deny it and say that she didn’t mean a word of it. He’d know she’d be lying, but he would act like he didn’t. They could move on with their lives as if she never said anything, and she was tempted to do just that. She never planned on letting onto her developing feelings for him, forget about flat out tell him.

“I’m not sure if falling in love was the right way to describe it,” she finally murmured, too afraid to meet his eyes. She may have never had any intentions on ever telling him, but now that she apparently did she just has to know if they’re mutual; something she doubts.

“Then what is the right way to describe it?” He asked, prompting her to look up and meet his gaze.

“You tell me,” she challenged and with a smirk he backed off, turned and grabbed the paper towel with the bacon, and turned back and set the food between them.

“I’m not good with feelings,” he answered her

“Neither am I,” she replied, “Sometimes I wonder if I still have them.” She mused,

“Same here,” He admitted, “Ever since I iced my old man I’ve wondered if the reasons really matter, or if deep down I’m just as dark as he was.” He confessed as the two of them began to pick at their breakfast, Sara eating less than what Len would’ve liked her to after last night but he didn’t say anything.

“You’re not,” she finally assured him.

“I know, and you know you’re still capable of feeling. Doesn’t mean the doubt doesn’t linger,” he replied and she only nodded because she knows how true that is.

“So what?” She asked, “Do you want to pretend I didn’t know what I was saying last night?” She asked, getting more back on the subject.

“Did you?” He asked her with a raised eyebrow and she shrugged,

“Like I said, falling in love might have been a little extreme and I never would’ve said anything sober, but doesn’t mean I was lying.” She answered,

“I never accused you of lying,” he said, “I just wanted to make sure that you weren’t going to take back what you said about not kicking my ass when you’re sober.” He explained and she smiled.

“I don’t remember saying anything about that,” she said and he smirked.

“You never mentioned who it is you’re afraid you’ll fall in love with,” he said and she gave him a questioning look, one that asked how he knew it was fear that was holding her back. His rather curious face told her that she had probably said something along those lines last night.

“Well, despite my recent track record, it isn’t a girl.” She began, “It’s this guy, and he’s tall and he’s sweet. He doesn’t care about my past, he’s got a bit of a thing for ice.” He found himself laughing quietly at her joke and she laughed too, glad to see that he wasn’t immediately rejecting her.

“So what do you want to do?” He finally asked her, if he’s honest with himself he knows that he feels the same way about her. Calling it love right now might be a little premature, but he can’t deny that there’s something there.

“Your call,” she answered him in a whisper so low that he barely heard her.

It was in that moment, as soon as the words left her lips; that Len felt something inside of him snap. Not in the bad way, but in the way where whatever snapped it releases a burst of courage. He felt it snap and the next thing he knew he was leaning just a little further over the counter to close the gap between them, lightly capturing Sara’s lips with his. He was beyond relieved when he felt her kiss back, even though he could feel her holding back. That was ok though, because he was holding back too. This is new territory for both of them, entering something headfirst like this. Sara hasn’t considered a real relationship since coming back to life and Leonard… well he’s not sure he’s ever been in a real relationship.

“Good call,” she whispered with a smile once he pulled away and smiled back at her.

“We don’t have to tell the team about this do we?” He asked but much to his relief Sara shook her head.

“No, they can figure it out for themselves.” She said and he smirked in agreement before pushing his weight off the counter.

“Good, now eat your breakfast.” He said in a more commanding voice and although she rolled her eyes she did in fact pick up another piece of bacon and start eating.


End file.
